


Seventeen

by Venstar



Series: Meaningless Scars [17]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-12 00:24:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15327672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venstar/pseuds/Venstar
Summary: He made one attempt to get past her and he ended up with his arse on the ground and a sore elbow, cradling his laptop bag against his stomach.





	Seventeen

**Author's Note:**

> a continuance of 15, 16. I have another section after this so don't despair...yet unless you want to.

Q was flung, he couldn’t see, so Moneypenny could have tossed him into an endless abyss and he wouldn’t have known any different. However, he stumbled over a piece of uneven pavement. It took him a few tippy, tippy, tippy moments before he got his feet not so gracefully underneath him again. With a twist and a pull, he got his his coat and laptop bag shoved down and out of his face. He whirled around, like a top, his hair sticking out this way and that way, he pushed his glasses back up his nose and faced the entrance to the bunker. 

Moneypenny was blocking the way, with her arms crossed over her chest and her very sharp stilettos beating a warning on the floor. He made one attempt to get past her and he ended up with his arse on the ground and a sore elbow, cradling his laptop bag against his stomach. His mouth dropped open. She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Go on, get out of here.”  
Q lurched to his feet, bag swaying against him. He wasn’t quite sure if the lurch and sway were related to his natural grace of if he WAS just that tired and it was starting to catch up to him. “I am not a cat, you can’t shoo me!”

“Yes I can. Scat. Go on, you alley cat! Don’t make me get the water bottle. You’re not to re-enter Q branch until…” She glanced at her watch. “I say so.”

“Moneypenny! This is insubordination!” He yelled, his voice reverberating off the stone. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Insubordination!” She smiled at him. SMILED at him, the nerve of that insufferable cow!

She thrust an arm out and at the end of that arm, was a finger, pointing towards the dark and lazy street with the odd cab still plodding away at this time of night, morning, twilight...whatever. “Go. And don’t come back until you’ve ticked off all those little boxes on the checklist I gave you. Get something to eat, take a bath and try to get some sleep!”

Q screwed up his face and bunched his coat and the itty bitty scraps of dignity he had left around him. “Fine! Fine! But only because you said so. I hate you.”

“I know. I hate you too. Good night Q.” Moneypenny smiled softly at him, as she let herself back into the bunker, leaving Q all by his lonesome on the pavement.

Well that was just fantastic. Q stomped off, patting at his pockets, wallet? Yes. Phone? Yes. Keys? Yes. Q let out a long held sigh, his body drooping. He was incredibly tired, but he would never admit it to Moneypenny. He had so much work ahead of him, or not...what if the double-oh program wasn’t reinstated? What would he do then? Back to inventing? For whom? Q gave a shudder at the thought. Would MI6 keep him on? What about MI5? Did he want to continue along with the government? Did he have any choice. Maximus was correct, the choices we made in life did echo for an eternity. 

His stomach growled as his brain latched onto another topic of choice about the choices he might have to make in the future...maybe even tomorrow. “Oh, calm down stomach, I’ll feed you.” Q mumbled. Head down and feet moving, he turned his massive brain and hunger over to what he wanted to eat. What about that curry place at the end of his block, would they be open? Maybe he should phone ahead for pizza. Would the Spinelli’s be open the late...early? Lasagna sounded good...hell anything sounded good.

SNKKT  
BUMP  
THUD  
THUD  
THUD  
HSSS  
THUMP  
SNKKT

It was over in a matter of heartbeats. Q leaned against the brick wall, the lights of the street just a few feet away and his assailant gone in a flash. He stuck an arm under his coat and his fingers came away, dark and wet. “Fuck it all.” He stumbled forward, his body feeling light. “Is this it? Is this how it goes, am I dying?” Q thought to himself. No, at least...not yet. His laptop bag was missing. He closed his eyes. Of all the stupid things. He pushed forward to the street and raised a hand. Oops, not that one. Cabs won’t take him if he’s covered in blood. He raised his not bloody hand and oh thank god one stopped for him. Like a proper wild cat, he only knew of one safe place to go and die. Hopefully when Bond came back, he wouldn’t be too put out with a dead body and a little bit of blood. It would serve him right though.


End file.
